Long Drooped Poems
Long Drooped Poems. Below are the most popular long Drooped by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Drooped poems by poem length and keyword.
In the garland in my mind, in fragrance of rose
as much as I wanted her I got pain much more,
kneel in bed to her soul in thirst of love
I had gone to her
shore.
In her lotus like eyes, I thought paradise
I could never guess all it was mise,
I wanted her I got pain
again and again
it was a desert not in rain.
She was boast, her mind was full of arrogance
my heart defeated over and again by her nonsense
she was obsessive but there was
no tune of love in that
trench.
Venom carried by that flow burnt my heart and soul
tears drooped down, tone of despair spread in the sky
in such a
foul.
In the garland in my mind, in fragrance of rose
as much as I wanted her I got pain much more,
kneel in bed to her soul in thirst of love
I had gone to her
shore.
Although she was my grandmama,
We all called her Miss Ida.
Children and grandchildren alike did succumb
To this quaint, obscure, southern custom.
In the days of gold and lavender,
Mother was "Miss," and father was "Mister."
When buttercups danced in the sun,
When skies were vaguely cinnamon.
She gave to me a lilac, gingham dress;
It was cherished for its prettiness!
Among my oldest memories
Are those of being at Miss Ida's knees.
She had a certain wood stove,
Warm like those sunsets of mauve.
And used to cook wild collard greens,
In days when I wore little blue jeans.
When bluebirds flew around the bend,
And crows from the sunny South End,
When cherries drooped upon the trees,
I began life at Miss Ida's knees.
With downpour hued in starlit gray,
And fallen eyes are interlocked
In drizzles where the torrent bites
Till candles wane on fabric soiled
(As evening slips its frail chemise).
Her boudoir cluttered by the wind,
Sighing a pitter-patter scream
(Old woman dwells on passing sprees)
And on a chair, her drooped spine curves,
(To track hazed lifetime’s reveries);
Receding off so constantly.
Heels tip tap rhythm on the floor;
Alone, betrothed to lonely sheets
(Entrusting stars for pain’s release).
How cold the gush in Summer's flight.
......................
For Craig Cornish’s Intermingle Contest
---------------------
Inspired by poems” How Cold The Gush"-- 5/25/2013
and “ Seeking Evening's Peace-- 11/17/2013
............
by nette onclaud
It was far later than dawn
Even past those pastel morns
Sun being up and light bright
Reveal all__no shadows__
The roosters had crowed before
Now were almost silent__still
Birds had quieted__just rare chirp
In distance__ machinery noise
As I got comfortable
Noticed herbs looked wilted__ drooped
Checked to see if dry but not
They are__ totally potbound
Life__how many people are
Stuck__complacent__not growing
Soon will die from starvation
Just live a boring__stuck life
Just one change__out of the rut
Going a different route___walk
Take a camera along
One change__life becomes new__ grand
SUNFLOWER SAPLING
I am growing yellow blossoms, patina of petals shining golden.
My flowers silently smile to praise glowing Sun if not hidden
behind platoon of clouds, flowers seek sun rays till sunset.
Blooms gaily gaze moving heads as Sun roams slow from East to West.
Being in quest of sunbeam, bright or dim, flowers are smart to turn
heads throughout day always facing dazzling blazing shiny Sun.
Glossy glistening shy flowers are shaken by gentle mild breeze.
Me bathed by amorous shower or sun rays while zephyr tries to tease.
Blossoms are drooped, dried when my short life ends in one season.
Drones and bumble bees stick to withered blooms as seeds got ripen.
10/01/19
Second Place
'Story of My Life in Ten Lines' Contest by Silent One.
The rain had started lightly as graceful drops on the window. I was
peaceful and tranquil and it made me want to meditate and closing my
eyes I drifted away to a sweet place of relaxation, fluttering on gossamer
wings. Tap, tap, tap on the windows and suddenly the wind was blowing
in the tangled trees with a loud whisper, as it does often in May.
birds were twittering
unseen in the bending trees
then they were silent
There was no lightning or thunder just the falling, falling, falling rain.
I went to sit on the garden porch and I watched the rain cascading on the
foliage and the spring flowers. I imagined their delight, so sweet, it must
have felt on their leaves and blooms. They danced and swayed to the music
of the rain and wind. The steps of the garden were wet and beautiful with
dripping green. I just stayed and was entwined with the May shower.
soft and so gentle
rain weeping in the garden
the giver of life
It rained all the night, becoming quite the downpour. Sleep music on my
roof, as I lay in my bed, warm and cozy. I listened until my eyes drooped
and closed. I woke in the morning and the showers had passed but the
streets were flooded and rain was gushing from the sewer runoffs. I went
out in the garden and it was so tranquil and still. It seemed happy, and to
me a jungle rain forest in the middle of May in Canada.
a garden dripping
leaves heavy with wetness
after the may rain
___________________________
May 2, 2015
Haibun/After the May Showers
Copyright Protected, ID 897318
Entered in the contest, May Showers
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
First Place
Mind is void, life is empty .
Brain now dull, though once was witty.
No more I'm in hail and hearty.
Wandering fully meaningless
Lone sailor sailing just aimless.
Matters not , careful or careless.
No hope is left to achieve more.
No desire, even to explore.
Confined ! No means to open door.
All my works almost to delete.
Love -flowers drooped in life's twilight.
Nice memories turned obsolete.
Now reached last stage to discover
myself as helpless observer.
Empty vase : My time is over.
Exchange
I was carrying fruits in a basket
blended with juices of my tears.
On the way, a fairy I met.
She brought posies of flowers.
She offered the posy descent
with dreamy eyes by saying ’Cheers!’
I gave tearful fruits to accept.
She adored as precious treasures.
Shiny flowers made me happy.
Exchange of tears with smile, really
was unfair to kind fairy.
In evening I am to discover,
blooming flowers drooped to wither.
Tears! I should respect and honor.
03/23/16
'A Strand (1049)
Contest by Brian Strand
Outside my window there is a tree that stands alone.
In the distance there are towering pines but no tree
is near to this one. It stands wild and untended
with thin branches intertwined in a jumbled mesh
of aged and fragile limbs. It is a favorite gathering place
for sparrows. Great groups swarm to its many cross-stitched branches.
Their chattering excitement like a noisy children’s playground
with gossiping voices that travel through the panes of my front window.
They love this tree. They tell the world through song.
Without complaint the tree stands patient. For thirty-seven seasons
I have given it little notice showing even less care for its welfare.
This January has been mild. Yesterday we had a brief shower.
The bare branches of the old tree were dripping with rain.
Its boughs drooped with the weight of heavy drops.
Later, the warm sun came from the south and shone through
each droplet hanging, reflecting sunlight to my eyes.
Each raindrop became a tiny light upon the tree
covering it with thousands of faux Christmas lights.
They shone more brilliant than the nighttime stars in heaven.
And then a miracle happened. A small breeze arose, as if on cue.
Not enough to shake the droplets loose, but just enough
to make them shimmer. The sunlight was then reflected
with a swaying motion, light to shadow, to and fro.
It was breathtaking! Thousands of naturally twinkling lights
on an ordinary, turned extraordinary, tree.
A thought arose within my mind:
“All things in life must have their moment”
I felt humbled and amazed to share this moment with this tree,
Who was I to share a gift so rare. Eyes tearing up, I stood
staring in awe at the most beautiful tree in the world,
right outside my window, where it had always been.
GRACE
See her like the morning spring of spray
Doused the shriveled greens with dew
And from her heavenly boudoir ray
The drooped flora to brim life anew
Her crimson lips are bloomed roses
Enticing as bubbles of sweet fresh wine
And my heart enlivened by a dose
With a kiss possess by Muse divine
See her as she walks down the street
A perfect gait and feature she carries
Her skin glows with no blemish or grit
Arrayed with all the forest lilies
See her standing high atop the globe
For her lovers her hands spread afar
And makes all men long with her pose
Her bright eyes twinkling like the star
Let me come to hug you for all time
Oh dearest Grace, for you my heart yen
Fertile wife of celibates at their prime
Daughter of God, the mother of men!
She guards me to avoid any blame
To find goodness in all living beings
And with her cloak she covers my shame
To make out beauty from ugly things!